


Change of heart

by writingformadderton



Category: Rocketman - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Family, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingformadderton/pseuds/writingformadderton
Summary: Taron and Richard spend a beautiful Christmas with their families. Watching Richard with his niece and his own sisters makes Taron’s heart warm, making him long to have children with Richard. But the Scottish isn’t thrilled about the idea and Taron is more upset about it than he shows in the beginning. When the situation between the two gets harder, Richard decides to leave and spend a few days with his sister and niece. Will he have a change of heart coming back home?
Relationships: Taron Egerton/Richard Madden
Kudos: 24





	Change of heart

“Mum wants to know what our plans are for Christmas,” Rich asks one night in the middle of October over a bottle of wine and a plate of spaghetti. He pushes the food around on his plate and looks up at Taron, baby blue eyes meeting green. 

“We don’t have anything yet, do we?” Taron asks, his mouth full of garlic bread. Rich smiles. 

“No, not yet. Think we can get this place ready for the family to come for the holiday?” Rich asks, looking around at the mess. They’d finally taken the plunge recently to put down roots together. They’d been together for four years, gotten married the summer before last, but had continued to rent. Their projects had taken them from place to place, and it had seemed to make sense to just rent while they searched for the perfect place to really settle down. They’d found this beautiful home in London a few months ago, and both of them had decided that this was it. They’d made an offer and had just moved in three weeks prior. They hadn’t gotten around to unpacking, both of them too busy with work, and Richard had gotten to the point where he was afraid they’d be living out of boxes forever. 

“You want to host Christmas?” Taron asks, looking around at their cluttered home. 

“It could be fun, get everyone together, show off the new place.” Richard reaches out and takes Taron’s hand, squeezing gently. “I’m proud of us, I’m proud of what we’ve got here. I want to share it with them.” He seems sincere, and Taron’s heart fills with pride for the man he’s married. 

Taron squeezes Rich’s hand back. “You want to have Christmas, we’re having Christmas. Done.” Rich smiles and goes back to eating dinner.

Two months later, it’s Christmas Eve and Rich is a nervous wreck. The house is spotless-when he’s nervous, he cleans, and he’s been anxious about this for two weeks-and ready for company. Taron’s mum and sisters had arrived the day prior, and the girls are playing upstairs in their guest room while Taron’s mum is bustling around the kitchen, helping Taron prepare the roast for the evening. Rich’s family is due to arrive any minute, and since Taron’s forbidden him from cleaning anything else- “For the love of God, Rich, if you clean the downstairs bathroom counter one more time, it’s going to bloody fall off!”-he’s set his sights on the Christmas tree. 

Part of the reason they’d bought this particular house was the grand high ceilings in the family room. When they’d toured the property with their realtor, they’d stared at the cathedral ceilings in wonder, and Taron had snaked his arm around Richard’s waist. “Imagine the Christmas tree we could cram in here,” he’d muttered, and Rich had agreed adamantly. Now they’d done it, secured a twelve-foot tree from a tree farm, and they’d spent ages decorating it. It was flawless, down to the last detail, but Rich still finds himself nervously rearranging bulbs, tweaking the lights, checking to make sure the base has enough water. Taron looks up from the kitchen counter and sees Richard, and he chuckles a little. 

Taron crosses the room and wraps his arms around his husband from behind, impulsively burying his face into Rich’s sweater. Rich jumps, startled, and turns around, Taron resuming his hold on him once he’s facing him. “Let me go,” Rich mutters, half-heartedly. 

“You, my love, need to calm down,” Taron says softly. “I know you’re nervous, but everything’s going to be just fine. Our families are going to get along wonderfully, and the house is beautiful, and you’re beautiful. It’s all going to be great.” Taron leans up and gives Richard a slow, soft kiss. Richard leans into him, allows Taron’s arm to tighten around him protectively, allows himself to enjoy it. Rich is taller, and bigger, and stronger than Taron, but he will always himself to be held by him. He feels safe, and when they pull away from each other, he feels calmer. Calm enough to go in the kitchen and help with the meal, and calm enough not to fidget with any more of the Christmas decorations. 

(He does sneak in one last cleaning of the bathroom counter, though.) 

A few hours later, Richard’s family arrives: his mum and dad, one of his sisters, and his little niece. The next few days are spent in a flurry of activity, presents, good food and even better company. Taron’s right, of course, and everything goes smoothly. Their families get along, they always have. Their mums have become great friends, and Rich’s dad fits right in, as well. Taron’s delighted to see that his sisters and Rich’s niece are getting along, as well. They’re close in age, and they spend the next couple of days playing with each other’s toys, chasing each other in stockinged feet as they race around the house. The most surprising part of the holiday is just how smoothly everything goes. None of the food gets burned, no one gets into a fight, there is no drama whatsoever. It’s like a Christmas out of a book or a movie. 

Well, there is one other thing that catches Taron by surprise. He realizes it on December 26, the day before everyone is due to head back home. He’s sipping gently from a drink, something Rich’s dad has made. He has no idea what’s in it but it’s strong, and his head is just a little bit fuzzy. It warms him from the inside out, and as he watches Richard play with his niece on the floor in front of him, he realizes he’s spent precious little of the holiday with his husband, even though they’ve been in the same house. 

All weekend it’s been a blur of tiny voices yelling “Uncle Richie!” or “Rich, look at this!” or “Richard, come play with us!”. His sisters and Rich’s niece absolutely adore him, and he’s spent most of his time playing with their toys, reading them stories, making crafts with them. Taron’s always been an involved older brother, but Rich is next-level with the kids, devoting his time and attention to them. As a joke, Rich’s sister had bought he and his niece matching pajamas for Christmas, and they’re both decked out in them now: green dinosaur pajama onesies, complete with a hood and a tail. Taron watches as Rich places the last Lego on top of a giant tower, and chuckles at the steely glint in his niece’s eye. One well-aimed kick and the tower tumbles down, and Richard pretends to growl angrily at her before scooping her up into his arms and tickling her belly. Taron’s heart flutters, melts, as he watches. 

He feels the space on the couch next to him shift as Rich’s sister sits next to him, holding her own drink. He looks over and smiles at her, and she smiles back before they both turn and watch Rich. 

“They’re precious together, eh?” Rich’s sister asks, and Taron nods. 

“They really are.” 

“I love watching them together. She absolutely adores Richard. They don’t get to spend enough time together, it breaks my heart. But when they are together…” she gestures at the pair, who are now focused again on building up their tower of Legos. The intense concentration on Richard’s face is almost comical to Taron, if it wasn’t so adorable. 

“I’ve never seen this side of him,” Taron says softly and Rich’s sister smiles. 

“He’s a completely different person with her. Not that he’s not always lovely, but it’s just…different. Special.” They both take a sip of their drinks and then she says, quietly, “Have you guys ever thought of, you know. Having kids?”

Taron pauses for another moment. “We haven’t discussed it.”

“Sorry, am I being too nosey? Richard would kill me,” she says with a small smile and Taron smiles back. 

“Not nosey at all. It’s just…something we haven’t talked about yet. But seeing him with her…it’s something else, you know?” he says, and she nods in agreement.

Taron’s family leaves earlier in the day, his mum crying as she kisses her son goodbye, his sisters clinging tightly to Taron and Richard both in turn. Richard’s mum, dad and sister set out later in the day, and before Taron knows it, it’s time for them to leave for the airport. 

They drive to the airport and say their goodbyes. Richard’s niece clings to him with ferocity, and what really tugs at Taron’s heart is that Rich is clinging just as tightly. 

“Come on, love,” Rich’s sister says softly, gently prying the little girl away from her uncle. She wails, and burrows into her mother reflexively. Richard rubs her back. 

“I’m gonna come see you so soon, okay? It’ll only be for a little while, us being apart,” Rich says soothingly. He hugs his sister and parents goodbye; they hug Taron and then they’re off. They watch them walk away and then head back to the car, Richard holding onto Taron’s hand tightly. Their ride home is quiet, punctuated only by Richard sniffling, every so often. 

When they get home, the house is quiet. It feels empty and lonely, and Taron can tell that Richard is feeling the same that he is. He looks at Richard’s face, and watches as it crumples. Taron pulls him in, tight to his chest, and wraps his arms around Rich. He rubs slow, small circles on Rich’s back, whispers soothing words into his ear. “S’okay, Richie. It’s gonna be okay. I know you’re sad, but we’ll go see them soon.” 

Rich sniffles and nods, his face buried into Taron’s shoulder. “I can’t help it, that little peanut just means so much to me. We always have the best time together. I’m always so sad when we have to leave each other.” 

Taron nods, and they stay like that for a while, the two of them holding each other, caught in a moment of emptiness.

The next few weeks go by and everything returns to normal. Richard and Taron are busy with their respective projects, and they return to the every day hustle and bustle of their normal lives. In his free moments, however, Taron finds himself thinking about his conversation with Richard’s sister. 

He hadn’t been lying when he said the subject of children was something they hadn’t talked about. With their busy schedules and the wedding and moving into the house, they just hadn’t found the time to talk about it. It seems silly, now that Taron thinks of it, to ignore a subject as big as this one. In truth, he hasn’t given much thought to children on his own. But he can’t get the images of Richard with his niece and T’s sisters out of his mind, and he has done nothing all week but picture the two of them with their own child.

He pictures bath time and Christmas card photos and school plays. He sees the two of them reading stories, dressing up for Halloween, and baking cookies with their son or daughter. He sometimes looks at their spare bedrooms and imagines the two of them transforming one of them into a nursery, painting the walls, setting up a crib, putting together a rocking chair. It has become his own secret fantasy, one he hasn’t indulged his husband in yet, and he isn’t sure how to bring it up. He can’t imagine a world in which Richard doesn’t want a child with him, not after how he’d seen him on Christmas with his niece. 

Which is why it comes as a shock when, a week later over a glass of wine, Richard says no, he’s never wanted children, when Taron brings it up to him.   
They are sitting on the sofa, and Taron has started a fire in the fireplace. The lights are low and everything is soft, and they’ve just had a lovely meal and Taron decides that tonight’s the night. He’s never been one to ruminate on things alone for long, and so he starts the fire, pours two glasses of red wine, and burrows deep next to his husband. “What do you think about…having kids?” Taron asks, and he stills when Rich nearly chokes on his wine. 

“Oh, God no,” Rich says, taking a long drink of wine. “I’ve never wanted children.” A beat of silence fills the room, and he glances down at Taron, who has wriggled away from being tucked beneath Richard’s arm. “Why do you…T, do you want children?” 

Taron’s face flushes a bright pink, and he looks everywhere but at Richard’s eyes. “Well…yeah, Rich, I kind of do.” 

Richard’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. “You’ve never said anything before.” 

“Well, I never even considered it before, but…what do you mean you don’t want children? I saw you with your niece and my sisters over the holidays, you’re brilliant, they love you and you love them. I thought…” Taron trails off, unable to think of anything else to say. 

“Well, yes, of course I love the kids, but…they go home, you know? I get to have fun with them and then my niece goes back to my sister and she gets to deal with the tantrums and the homework, and whatnot,” Richard says, taking another long drink of wine. 

“You’re so good with them, though,” Taron says, feeling lame, feeling like he’s been backed into a corner.

“I’m good with them, yes, but full time? Being responsible for an entire human life? I can’t handle that, T.”

Taron reaches over, grabs Rich’s hands with his own. “Oh, love. Yes, you can. If anyone can, it’s you. Actually, if anyone can, it’s us,” Taron says, giving Richard a confident smile. 

Richard scowls, just a touch. “Taron, you’re not listening to me, okay? Being a parent is more than matching pajamas and building a Lego city. It’s…it’s doctor’s appointments and discipline and making sure they eat their vegetables. It’s dealing with all of their problems and school calling when they misbehave. It’s making sure he or she turns into a good person, and I don’t think I can handle that responsibility. I don’t think I want that responsibility. With our work schedules, and our careers in general, plus just…I don’t know. I can’t.” 

RIchard finishes his speech and then chances a look at Taron’s face; he immediately regrets it. Taron’s face has crumpled. He looks devastated, and Richard reaches over and tries to kiss Taron, but T pulls away. He drops Rich’s hands and backs away on the couch, pushes himself to his feet. 

“I just…need a minute,” Taron says, and goes upstairs.

‘A minute’ turns out to be three days. Taron avoids Richard for three days. He turns away from him in bed, showers and leaves the house by the time Rich gets up, and sits next to him on the couch in the evening and says almost nothing. 

Richard’s strategy is to leave him be, let him feel whatever he’s feeling. He’ll talk to Taron when Taron’s ready. But by the third evening of near-complete silence, he decides that it’s been long enough. 

They are watching TV, some obscure baking competition (Taron’s favorite, Rich’s way of trying to draw him out), and on the commercial, Richard punches the ‘mute’ button on the remote. He turns towards Taron, and God, he’s beautiful, even like this, he thinks. Taron’s face is impassive, and he can’t tell at all what he’s thinking. It scares him, just a bit, because he’s always been able to tell what’s going through his husband’s mind. 

“Taron,” Richard says softly, but Taron’s face remains stony, staring forwards. “Love.” 

Finally, Taron turns and looks at him, and there are tears shining in his blue-green eyes. A lump forms in Richard’s throat. “Oh, bubs,” he says quietly, and Taron swipes at his eyes hurriedly. “Please don’t be angry with me.” 

“I’m not angry!” Taron bursts out, and Richard nods quickly. “I’m not angry, Richie, I’m upset. I’m sad. I know I shouldn’t have, but I let myself get hopeful about this.” 

Rich takes a deep breath and waits for a minute. Taron is crying, just lightly, and Rich takes him in his arms. They stay like that for a short while, holding each other, pretending that this is just an ordinary night, an ordinary conversation. Richard presses a soft kiss on the top of Taron’s head before speaking.. “I’m sorry, T. I wish I wanted this like you do.” 

Taron wrestles away from him abruptly, saying nothing but extracting himself from Richard’s arms and going back to his separate side of the couch. Richard sighs. “I knew you were mad.” 

“If you can give me three good reasons why you don’t want to have a child with me, then I won’t be upset. Three reasons that don’t have to do with our careers and the responsibility, because schedules can be rearranged and we’re both adults and can handle the responsibility,” Taron says, an edge to his voice, his eyes hardening in a way that Richard has never seen. 

He pauses for a moment and then says, gently, “I don’t need three reasons why, T. ‘I don’t want to’ is reason enough.” 

Taron nods, and gets up from the couch. “I’m having a shower.” 

Richard watches him go, wishing he could say something, anything. He wishes he could tell Taron that he’s afraid, more than anything else. He doesn’t feel like he’d be a good father, he feels like he’d fail a child, and he wishes he could tell Taron that it has absolutely nothing to do with him or their relationship. Instead, he watches his husband leave the room, hears the bedroom door slam from across the house. He closes his eyes.

The warm water is soothing as it pours down his shoulders and back, but it doesn’t change the reality of what’s happening in his personal life. He doesn’t know if the reason Rich doesn’t want to have kids because of a personal preference, or if it’s because of some failing in himself or their marriage. He wishes he could convey to Rich that he’ll love him no matter what, but this hurts, it really hurts, and he hadn’t realized how badly he wanted to have kids until the option of it was taken from him. 

It’s true, he thinks as he towels off and changes into his pajamas. He will always love Richard and this won’t change that. But it might change something, just a bit. He goes into the living room to find him and tell him that, but the room is empty. Richard isn’t in the kitchen, the den, the office. He finally checks one of the guest rooms and sees Rich’s still form in the darkness, curled into himself in the bed. Taron feels like he’s going to cry again. Nothing will change the way he loves Rich, but can the same be said when it’s the other way around?

The next morning, Richard is awake and eating a bowl of cereal when Taron comes downstairs. His eyes flick up and catch Taron’s, and he offers the tiniest of smiles. 

“Figured you were mad,” Taron says, his voice still husky from sleep as he reaches for the cornflakes and pours himself a bowl. 

“I wasn’t mad. I just thought you might need your space. And I…I needed some space as well,” he admits, continuing to eat. 

“I see,” Taron says curtly and Rich chuckles softly. 

“Taron. Hey, look at me,” he says after a moment, when it becomes clear that Taron’s ignoring him and focusing intently on his cornflakes like a child. “Bubs. I have something I need to discuss with you.” 

Finally, Taron sighs dramatically and looks up at him. “What?” 

“I’m going to see my family for a few days. Just for a few days, a week, tops. I need to clear my head and I miss them,” Rich says, and his voice is soft and low and he is trying to break this gently, but Taron’s face registers the shock he’s feeling. 

“You’re leaving?” he asks quietly, and Richard sighs. 

“I’m not leaving you, I’m just…yeah, I guess I’m technically leaving, but it’s only for a few days. A week at the most. This isn’t a separation or anything, darling, I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed and I need my family right now,” Rich says, reaching over and trying to take Taron’s hand, although he jerks it away. 

“I’m your family, Rich. At least I thought I was,” Taron says, and Rich can tell that he’s angry. 

“Bubs, you are my family, you know that, I just meant…” Rich says hurriedly. Taron holds up his hand and cuts him off. 

“So I’m your family but I’m not part of that family,” Taron says flatly. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s being obstinate for no reason. He knows that it’s perfectly okay for Richard to take some time to go see his parents and his sisters. But right now he feels himself being petulant because he’s hurt and sad and this isn’t how he is, this isn’t how they are together. 

Richard sighs. He can tell that nothing he says is going to be enough for Taron, and, simply put, he doesn’t feel like digging himself any further into the hole. “Taron, you know in your heart that’s not true. You know that. I don’t know what’s going on between us right now but I need a minute to get my head back on straight, and I think you need that time, too. I’ll see you soon.” Richard kisses Taron’s cheek, gently, and reaches down to grab his suitcase before heading out of their home and into the cold morning air.

Rich heads straight to his sister’s as soon as he arrives and spends the afternoon with his niece. He picks her up from school and takes her for ice cream, lets her get two scoops even though it’ll ruin her dinner and insists on whipped cream. Then he helps her with her homework, his patience never waning even when she gets frustrated. 

After his sister comes home, he helps her cook dinner, and they eat together, the three of them while he listens to his niece chatter sweetly, grinning and in her element with her mom and her favorite uncle. 

After dinner, he helps with bathtime and spends the rest of the evening on the floor, making tiny plastic dolls talk with a high-pitched voice that he’d sooner die than let anyone else hear. He plays the part of the egregiously wronged college girl whose boyfriend has dumped her for the other doll. He chuckles as he watches his niece prance around her dollhouse, marvels at her attitude and spunk. 

At half past eight, he lays his doll down and says, “Alright, love, I think it’s time for bed.” 

She plants her tiny hands on her tiny hips and shakes her head angrily. “No! I want to keep playing!” 

“Listen to Uncle Rich, darling,” his sister calls from across the room, absorbed in her novel, grateful for a break and more than willing to let Rich take over. 

“We can play again tomorrow, but tonight, it’s time for sleep. Come on, I’ll read you a story,” he says softly, tweaking her gently on the nose. She sighs dramatically but nods, and Richard scoops her up into his arms. 

When his sister comes to check on them twenty minutes later, they’re both asleep in her bed, Rich’s niece burrowed into his side, his arm around her tightly. She watches them both for just a moment before snapping a quick picture with her phone, and then she shakes Rich awake gently. He looks around, bleary-eyed, then lays down the book he’d been reading and gently lays his small niece down in her bed. He kisses her forehead, softly, and then tiptoes out with his sister into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. 

Once they’re back in the living room, Rich’s sister pours him a glass of wine and they sink down next to each other on the couch. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. I’m beat,” he says with a sheepish smile, and she nods, sipping slowly and looking contemplative. “What?” he asks, knowing his sister long enough to know when she’s got something on her mind. 

“So, tell me again why you don’t want to have children with Taron?” she asks, almost nonchalantly. Rich nearly chokes on his wine, and thinks, vaguely, that he ought to avoid drinking with the people he’s closest to, because it inevitably leads to a discussion about children. 

“What on earth are you talking about?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes. 

“Don’t play dumb with me. I watched you pick up your niece from school, help her with her homework, cook dinner, give her a bath, play with her, and then read her a story. Very lovingly, I might add. And you didn’t look miserable.” 

“That’s different.” 

“Explain,” she says shortly. 

“This isn’t permanent, this is just for a few days until I go home. Maybe I don’t want to do this permanently,” Rich says, trailing off lamely. He knows she will see through it. 

His sister chuckles. “Richard Madden, I have known you all our lives, and that’s crap. You’re scared. And that’s valid, because having a kid is scary! It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done. But it’s so worth it. I promise. You can do this.” Richard’s sister reaches out and squeezes his hand, and he takes a deep breath. 

He thinks of his niece upstairs, sleeping soundly. He imagines that he is home, with his husband, with the one great love of his life. He imagines that it is their child sleeping safely upstairs. They are exhausted from a long day at work and the dishes need to be done and bedtime has taken an entire bloody hour that night. But he imagines that they have a child upstairs, his or her arm curled protectively around a stuffed animal, his or her cheeks flushed with sleep and lost in dreams. He imagines raising this tiny human with the one great love of his life, and he feels something swell inside of him, some beacon of hope or light. 

Richard takes a few more days with his sister and niece, and when he returns home he feels fresh and rested and when he opens the front door and sees Taron, he nearly bowls him over as he rushes at him. 

Taron lets out a whoosh of air in surprise, but tightens his arms around his husband regardless. “Missed you,” he says softly, and Richard can tell he means it. 

He intends to say ‘missed you, too’, intends to do nothing more than bury his face into Taron’s soft sweater. But his sweater smells like him and it smells like home and he is filled with an overwhelming rush of love, and he blurts out, “Have a kid with me.” 

There’s a long moment of silence where Richard’s words hang between them, fat and heavy and full of potential. “Don’t mess with me,” Taron says quietly, and Richard smiles a little. He looks up from his vantage point and smiles bigger. 

“I’m not messing with you. If you still want to, I…I want to have a kid with you,” Richard says, liking the way the words sound coming out of his mouth. 

Taron laughs, really laughs, and kisses Richard full on the mouth. “What…happened? Are you sure? What changed your mind?” The words tumble over themselves and come out in a rush, Taron’s so happy. 

“I’m sure. I…my sister helped me to see that I’m just scared. I still am, in a lot of ways. But the idea of having children just seemed so…hard and scary and impossible. I couldn’t picture myself as a father, my insecurities just screamed at me whenever I imagined it. But then I spent some more time with my niece and I thought about…well, I thought about you,” Rich says shyly. Taron is rubbing slow circles on his back and listening, and at this he stops for just a moment, unable to believe what Richard’s saying. 

“What about me?” Taron asks quietly. 

“Well, look at this life, T. Look at this life we’ve built. This home and this relationship we have. The truth of it is…you’re it, bubs. You’re it for me. The moment I met you, I fell, hard, and I’ve never been the same since. My fear over having kids pale in comparison when I’ve got you with me. We will be the most amazing Dads, T. The most amazing Dads,” he says quietly, and reaches out with his thumb to wipe away a tear that’s winding its way down Taron’s face. 

“We absolutely will,” Taron whispers, and then he’s kissing Richard again and it is everything. 

“I’m going to need you, T, because I’m still scared,” Richard says and Taron nods. 

“I’m confident enough for us both,” he says, “and I’ll believe it until you can believe it all the time, too.” 

“It won’t be long,” Rich says, and he knows it’s true, as he imagines their child, caught between them both like a promise.


End file.
